


Falling Down The Rabbit Hole

by erialc_raeb



Category: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Futterwacken, Guzma likes You, Hats, I Made Myself Cry, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, M/M, Madness, Marriage Proposal, Pokemon - Freeform, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erialc_raeb/pseuds/erialc_raeb
Summary: You have had strange dreams since you were young, not know what caused them or how to stop them from occurring.  Smiling cats, and rabbits in waistcoats circle through your mind at all hours of the day.  Your father is the only one you can confide in with these impossible things as he has the same mind as you.Fall down the rabbit hole and discover a new world of impossibilities.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Tim Burton's 'Alice In Wonderland'. I love it a lot and I hope you do too! This basically follows the movie script with some twists, turns and romance just around the corner!
> 
> Updates every Tuesday!

“Steven, you have finally lost your senses.” Lord Ascot says to Steven Kingsley, who had just described his new venture to his friends and colleagues. “This venture is impossible.” Steven only chuckles in response. “For some. Gentlemen, the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible.” He explains. “That kind of thinking could ruin you.” A different man says.

“I’m willing to take that chance. Imagine trading posts in Rangoon, Bangkok, Jakarta…” Steven stops, his nine year old daughter (Y/n) stands at the door in her nightgown, clearly frightened. He goes to her.

“The nightmare again?” He asks. When she nods, Steven takes her hand and turns to his guests. “I won’t be long.”

Once in (Y/n)’s bedroom, Steven tucks his daughter into bed while listening to her dream with utmost seriousness.

“I’m falling down a dark hole, then I see strange creatures…” (Y/n) trails off, but Steven doesn’t skip a beat on picking the conversation back up. “What kind of creatures?” He asks. “Well, there’s a bird with a cane, a rabbit in a waistcoat, a smiling cat…” “I didn’t know cats could smile.” Steven smiles. “Neither did I. Oh, and there’s a blue caterpillar.” Young (Y/n) adds.

“Blue caterpillar. Hmm.” Steven thinks for a moment. “Do you think I’ve gone ‘round the bend?” (Y/n) asks worriedly. Steven reaches out and places a hand against her forehead as if for a fever.

“I’m afraid so. You’re mad. Bonkers. Off your head. But I’ll tell you a secret… All the best people are.” He tells her. (Y/n) smiles and leans against him. “It’s only a dream, (Y/n). Nothing can harm you there. But if you get too frightened, you can always wake up. Like this.” Steven demonstrates by pinching her. She screams and pinches him back.


	2. Chapter One

Ten years later on the outskirts of London, a horse drawn carriage careens down the road at a full gallop. (Y/n) Kingsley is on the verge of womanhood, beautiful, but slightly off-kilter. She sees the world with different eyes than other people her age. Presently, she’s tired and grumpy as her mother fusses with her wild mane of (h/c) hair.

“Must we go? I doubt they’ll notice if we never arrive.” (Y/n) begs her mother, Veronica Kingsley. “They will notice.” Veronica says pointedly while she re-ties (Y/n)’s waist sash and feels for her corset. “Where’s your corset?” Veronica pulls back her dress to see bare legs. “And no stockings!” She gasps.

“I’m against them.” (Y/n) explains. “But you’re not properly dressed.” Veronica feels an oncoming headache coming on from all this arguing. “Who’s to say what is proper? What if it was agreed that ‘proper’ was wearing a codfish on your head? Would you wear it?” (Y/n) asks her tired mother.

“(Y/n).” Veronica narrows her eyes at her daughter. “To me a corset is like a codfish.” (Y/n) crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the carriage’s window. “Please. Not today.” Veronica begs.

“Father would have laughed.” (Y/n) mutters before looking back at her mother. When seeing the hurt that crosses Veronica’s face, she regrets her words. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” (Y/n) explains.

“Did you have bad dreams again?” Veronica asks, patting (Y/n)’s hand in a forgiving gesture.

“Only one. It’s always the same ever since I can remember. Do you think that’s normal? Don’t most people have different dreams?” (Y/n) asks. Veronica removes her jewelry and puts it on her daughter.

“I don’t know. There! You’re beautiful. Now, can you manage a smile?” Veronica asks. (Y/n) gives her a small smile without showing her teeth. It seemed to satisfy her and the remaining carriage ride is spent in silence.

Once the two women arrive at the Ascot estate, the garden party is in full swing. Everyone has turned out in their summer finery. Guests play croquet on the great lawn. Skiffs drift lazily on a meandering river. (Y/n) approaches Lord and Lady Ascot with a fixed unnatural smile. Lord Ascot is a stately, aristocratic man. Lady Ascot is red-faced with annoyance.

“At last! We thought you’d never arrive. (Y/n), Hamish is waiting to dance with you. Go!” Lady Ascot pushes (Y/n) off and turns on Veronica. “You do realize it’s well past four! Now everything will have to be rushed through!” She continues.

“I am sorry. We…” Veronica starts but is cut off. “Never mind!” Lady Ascot rushes off. “Please forgive my wife. She’s been planning this affair for the last twenty years.” Lord Ascot explains.

“If only Steven were here.” Veronica says with a sad sigh. “My condolences, madame. I think of your husband often. He was truly a man of vision.” Lord Ascot coincides with the grieving woman. “Thank you.” She replies.

“I hope you don’t think I have taken advantage of your misfortune.” Lord Ascot quickly explains. “Of course not. I’m pleased that you’ve purchased the company.” Veronica tells him warmly. “I was a fool for not investing in his mad venture when I had the chance.” At this Veronica smiles. “Steven thought so too.”

Currently, (Y/n) is doing a line dance with Hamish who takes after his mother, refined and immaculate with aristocratic arrogance.

“Hamish, do you ever tire of the Quadrille?” (Y/n) asks. “On the contrary. I find it invigorating.” He replies, strutting like a peacock and causing (Y/n) to laugh. “Do I amuse you?” Hamish asks. “No. I had a sudden vision of all the ladies in waistcoats and the men wearing dresses.” (Y/n) explains, but Hamish doesn’t even crack a smile.

“It would be best to keep your visions to yourself. When in doubt, remain silent.” (Y/n)’s smile fades. Without her father, she feels there’s no one like her in the whole world. But, they dance on anyways. (Y/n) sees a flock of Swanna overhead. Distracted, she bumps into the dancers in front of them.

“Pardon us! Miss Kingsley is distracted today.” Hamish calls after the guests. “Where is your head?” Hamish asks through gritted teeth, face turning red that contrasts against his slicked back black hair. “I was wondering what it would be like to fly.” (Y/n) explains.

“Why would you waste your time thinking about such an impossible thing?” Hamish questions. “Why wouldn’t I? My father said he sometimes believed in six impossible things before breakfast.” (Y/n) laughs as the memory, but Hamish looks pained at her wild imagination. He sees his mother nearby who waves him on impatiently.

“Meet me under the gazebo in precisely ten minutes.” Without another word Hamish walks off. Suddenly two young snickering boys appear in front of (Y/n). It’s the Chattaways.

“We have a secret to tell you.” Gil says. “If you’re telling me, then it’s not much of a secret.” (Y/n) narrows her eyes at them. “Perhaps we shouldn’t.” Killian nudges his brother. “We decided we should!” Gil reminds him. “If we tell her, she won’t be surprised.” Killian points out. “Will you be surprised?” Gil asks.

“Not if you tell me. But now you’ve brought it up, you have to.” (Y/n) says, raising an eyebrow. “No we don’t.” Gil says. “In fact, we won’t.” Killian says, a little too proudly. “I wonder if your mother knows that you two swim naked in the Havershim’s pond.” (Y/n) asks, her patience running low.

“You wouldn’t!” Gil’s eyes go wide. “Oh but I would. There’s your mother now.” (Y/n) starts to walk toward her. “Hamish is going to ask for your hand!” (Y/n) stops dead. Her brother, Elios, suddenly pulls her away.

“You’ve ruined the surprise!” He calls out. “Ugh! I could strangle them! Everyone went to so much effort to keep the secret.” Elios sighs defeatedly. “Does everyone know?” (Y/n) asks softly.

“It’s why they’ve all come. This is your engagement party. Hamish will ask you under the gazebo. When you say ‘yes’...” “But I don’t know if I want to marry him.” (Y/n) interrupts him. “Who then? You won’t do better than a Lord.” Elios says, placing a hand on his sisters back.

(Y/n) looks at Hamish who blows his nose, studies the contents of his kerchief, then folds it and puts it in his pocket. (Y/n) visually grimaces.

“You’ll soon be twenty, (Y/n). That pretty face won’t last forever. You don’t want to end up like Aunt Imogene.” Elios whispers. They look at their middle-aged Aunt Imogene with over-roughed cheeks and a yellowing white dress that’s too young for her.

“And you don’t want to be a burden on mother, do you?” Elios asks. (Y/n) sighs. “No.” “So you will marry Hamish. You will be as happy as I am with Lowell and your life will be perfect. It’s already decided.” Elios rubs her arm as Lady Ascot’s face suddenly looms in her’s.

“(Y/n) dear, shall we take a leisurely stroll through the garden? Just you and me?” Lady Ascot doesn’t give her a chance to respond before she jerks her away quickly.

Lady Ascot steers her through the rose gardens at a fast pace.

“Do you know what I’ve always dreaded?” She asks. “The decline of the aristocracy?” (Y/n) asks, interest obviously elsewhere. “Ugly grandchildren. But you’re so lovely. You’re bound to produce little…” Lady Ascot gasps. “Imbeciles! The gardeners planted white roses when I specifically asked for red!” She growls.

“You could always paint the roses red.” (Y/n) suggests. Lady Ascot looks at her strangely. “What an odd thing to say. Come along.” She hurries her down the path. (Y/n) hears a jingling sound.

“You should know that my son has extremely delicate digestion…” (Y/n) sees something large and white dart past. “Did you see that?” She asks. “See what?” Lady Ascot asks. “It was a rabbit, I think.” (Y/n) stops in her tracks. “Nasty things. I do enjoy setting the dogs on them. Don’t dawdle.” Lady Ascot rushes (Y/n) toward the gazebo while (Y/n) is still looking for the rabbit.

“If you serve Hamish the wrong foods, he could get a blockage.” And there it is, a large white Buneary in a waistcoat, standing on its hind legs and staring directly at (Y/n). She blinks and the rabbit darts behind a tree.

“Did you see it that time?” (Y/n) asks. “See what?” Lady Ascot seems annoyed at being interrupted again. “The rabbit!” (Y/n) exclaims. “Don’t shout! Pay attention. Hamish said you were easily distracted. What was I saying?” Lady Ascot thinks for a second, trying to regain her train of thought.

“Hamish has a blockage. I couldn’t be more interested, but you’ll have to excuse me.” (Y/n) dives into the wooded area off the path and stands for a moment, mind reeling. A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps.

“Aunt Imogene! I think I’m going mad. I keep seeing a Buneary in a waistcoat.” (Y/n) explains. “How very strange. What kind of waistcoat?” She asks, fanning herself. “Brocade, I think. What does it matter? It’s a Buneary in a waistcoat!” (Y/n) exclaims.

“I can’t be bothered with your fancy rabbit now. I’m waiting for my fiance.” Aunt Imogene looks around, still waving her fan around. “You have a fiance?” The Buneary darts by. “There! Did you see it?” (Y/n) asks.

“He’s a prince. But, alas he cannot marry me unless he renounces his throne. Isn’t it tragic?” She asks, not listening to (Y/n) anymore. “Very.” (Y/n) backs away and runs into her brother’s husband, Lowell, kissing a strange man. The man runs off.

“Lowell?” (Y/n) asks. “(Y/n). We were… Noah is an old friend.” Lowell is wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I can see you’re very close.” (Y/n) narrows her eyes at a bright red and highly flustered Lowell.

“You won’t mention this to your brother, will you?” Lowell takes a step closer. “I don’t know. I’m confused. I need time to think.” She trails off. “Think of Elios. He would never trust me again. You don’t want to ruin his marriage, do you?” Lowell looms over (Y/n) almost threateningly.

“Me? I’m not the one…” (Y/n) is cut off by Hamish appearing next to her, annoyed. “There you are! I told you meet me under the gazebo!”

Hamish pulls (Y/n) under the gazebo. The shadows of the pillars fall on her like prison bars. She glances at a string quartet discreetly positioned in the shadows… Bows poised. Hamish drops to his knee. (Y/n) notices an artist immortalizing the moment.

“(Y/n) Kingsley…” Hamish starts. “Hamish.” (Y/n) cuts him off. “What is it?” He asks. “You have a Caterpie on your shoulder.” She tells him as he turns to look at it. Hamish begins to frantically brush at his shoulder.

“Don’t hurt it.” (Y/n) lets the blue Caterpie crawl onto her finger, then places it gently onto a tree branch. “You’ll want to wash that finger.” Hamish says. He sees his mother motioning to him from below. Everyone is watching.

“(Y/n) Kingsley, will you be my wife?” He blurts out. The question hangs in the air. Unsure of herself, unsure of her future, unsure of her own sanity in that moment, (Y/n) stammers.

“I...I…...Well, everyone expects me to...and you’re a Lord...and my face won’t last...and I don’t want to end up like...but this is happening so quickly...I think...I...I…” (Y/n) can’t even get a full sentence out. She sees the Buneary leaning against a pillar, glaring at her with undisguised impatience. “...need a moment.” She turns and runs.

(Y/n) follows the white Buneary across a meadow. “Wait!” She loses sight of him. (Y/n) peeks over the hedgerow, but no rabbit. Stumped, she looks around. A white paw reaches up and grasps her by the ankle. With a quick jerk, it pulls her down into the rabbit hole. She screams…

...And keeps screaming as she tumbles head over heels down the hole. She frantically grabs at the walls which are hung with paintings, ancient maps, cracked mirrors, demonic masks, etc. She pulls out books, jam jars, a crystal ball, a badger claw, a monkey’s hand and a human skull in her frantic effort to stop herself.

And down she falls. It begins to grow dark as the day passes into night. And still she falls. Finally, after what seems like hours…

WHAM! She hits bottom, smacking her head on a wooden floor.

“Ah!” (Y/n) shouts. Wind knocked out, she gasps for air, then she sits up, rubbing the bump on her forehead. She’s in a round hall with many doors. She gets up and tries a door. It’s locked. (Y/n) tries another one and another. She knocks.

“Hello? Hello! Anyone there?” No answer. She moves around the hall. Every door locked. She sees a three-legged glass table with a small key sitting on top. She picks up the key and tries it in a door. It’s too small for the lock. She tries it in a few doors, too small. She comes upon a curtain and pulls it aside to reveal a little door about two feet high. She tries the key in the door. It fits.

She opens the door and bends down to look through to the other side. Through the small door she sees a garden with a fountain. She tries to fit through the door, but her shoulders get stuck. She pulls back. Stumped, she goes back to the table and replaces the key. But now there’s a bottle on the table. She looks for the person who put it there.

“Is someone here?” She asks. She looks at a label. ‘DRINK ME’. She sniffs at the contents, recoils, then shrugs. “It’s only a dream.” (Y/n) says to herself. She takes a drink, shudders, gags and coughs from the taste. In a moment, she notices that the table is getting larger.

“That’s curious.” (Y/n) shrinks to two feet high. The doors loom above her. She takes a step and trips on her now-oversized clothes. Dragging them behind, she tries to open the door. But it’s still locked. She groans as she realizes what she’s done. She goes back to the glass table where she can see the gold key sitting on top.

An unheard voice can be heard from behind a door. “You’d think she’d would remember this from the first time.” “You’ve brought the wrong (Y/n).” “She’s the right one. I’m certain of it.”

(Y/n) attempts to climb the table leg, but gets tangled in her too-big clothes and slides off. She notices a little box under the table. She looks around for the unseen person. “If this is some sort of prank, I am not amused!” She opens the box. It’s a cake with ‘EAT ME’ written out in ornate icing. She considers, looks up at the key high above on the table. She takes a tiny taste of the cake. She takes another bite. WHOOSH! She shoots upward rapidly.

Her clothes fit again, but she keeps growling. Buttons pop, seams are strained and her skirt gets shorter. The ceiling gets closer...her head grazes it! She stops. Relieved, she bends down and picks up the gold key. Crouching, she goes to the little door and fits the key in the lock.

“She’s the wrong (Y/n).” Says an unknown voice. “Give her chance.”

She laughs at herself and goes back to the table. She picks up the little bottle and takes another swallow, shivers at the taste, then shrinks again to two feet high. Dragging her too-big clothes, she runs to the door, puts the key in the lock, opens it and steps through.

(Y/n) enters a fantastical world. Underland is bizarre, illogical, ofen dangerous, absurd, and strangely beautiful. The garden is brown and tangled, its statues broken and overgrown. The mossy fountain is silent. (Y/n) hears a bellow/sneezing sound as a green pig dashes past. The tall flowers have gaunt, haunted human faces. Shabby, thin birds walk on stalk legs. Dragonflies, horse flies and enormous gnats do fierce battle in the sky above.

“Curiouser and curiouser.” (Y/n) mutters. “I told you she’s the right (Y/n).” A white Buneary says. (Y/n) turns to see a Fearow with eye glasses and a walking stick, the white Buneary, and young female pink and yellow Rattata in breeches and two pink haired girls with their arms thrown over each others shoulder, Dee and Dum are stitched on their collars.

“I am not convinced.” Says the Rattata. The Buneary throws up his hands. “How is that for gratitude? I’ve been up there for weeks trailing one (Y/n) after the next! And I was almost eaten by other animals! Can you imagine? They go about entirely unclothed and they do their...shukm in public. I had to avert my eyes.” The flowers with human faces study (Y/n).

“She doesn’t look anything like herself.” One rose says. “That’s because she’s the wrong (Y/n).” The Rattata says yet again. “And if she was, she might be.” Tweedledee says to her sister. “But if she isn’t, she ain’t.” Adds Tweedledum. “But if she were so, she would be.” Rambles Dee. “But she isn’t. Nohow.” Dum rolls her eyes.

“How can I be the ‘wrong (Y/n)’ when it’s my dream? And who are you, if I may ask.” (Y/n) asks. Dee shakes her hand, speaking very fast. “I’m Tweedledee she’s Tweedledum.” “Contrariwise. I’m Tweedledum she’s Tweedledee.”

“We should consult Absolem.” Says the Fearow. “Exactly. Absolem will know who she is.” Says a second talking flower.

Tweedledee puts her arm out to her. “I’ll escort you.” Dum pulls her away from Dee. “It’s not being your turn.” They tug (Y/n) between them. “Leave off!” “Let go!” (Y/n) is visibly shaken. “Are they always this way?” She asks. “Family trait.” The Buneary explains. “You can both escort her.” Dee takes one arm and Dum takes the other. (Y/n), the Tweedles, the Fearow, Buneary and Rattata start off. The human faced flowers gossip about (Y/n) as they pass.

“It can’t be her. She looks nothing like (Y/n). She is not even wearing the right dress.” A yellow daffodil whispers.

“Who is this Absolem?” (Y/n) asks. “He’s wise. He’s absolute.” Says the white Buneary. “He’s Absolem.” The Tweedles say together.

They enter a forest of tall mushrooms surrounded by mist. “Who are you?” (Y/n) can see a form ahead where the mist rises in a steady plume. It’s coming from a hookah. There’s a blue Caterpie with a monocle smoking it. The white Buneary pushes (Y/n) toward him.

“Absolem?” (Y/n) asks. “You’re not Absolem. I’m Absolem. The question is...who are YOU?” He blows smoke rings in her face. She coughs.

“(Y/n).” “We shall see.” Absolem says. “What do you mean by that? I ought to know who I am!” (Y/n) argues. “Yes, you ought. Stupid girl. Unroll the Oraculum.” The Buneary unrolls an ancient parchment lying on a toadstool.

“The Oraculum: Being a Calendrical Compendium of Underland.” Says the white Buneary. (Y/n) looks. It’s a timeline depicting the major events of each day. Every day has a title and an illustration.

“It’s a calendar.” (Y/n) says. “Compendium. It tells of each and every day since the Beginning.” Absolem says. “Today is Gribling day in the time of the Red Queen.” The Buneary points to the illustration.

It shows all of them, including (Y/n), peering at the Oraculum, at that exact moment. Absolem shows her the Frabjous day. Buneary turns the scroll further into the future.

“Frabjous being the day you slay the Jabberwocky.” Says Dee. “Sorry? Slay the...what?” (Y/n) asks incredulously. The illustration is animated. The Jabberwocky is tall as a dinosaur with reptilian wings, scales, long sharp claws, a pronged tail and a vest. It hisses! A Knight with (h/l) (h/c) hair in chainmail fights him with a shining sword.

“That being you there with the Vorpal sword.” Says Dum. “No other swords can kill the Jabberwocky. Nohow.” Adds Dee. “If it ain’t Vorpal, he ain’t dead.” Dum says, the drawing swinging the sword and revealing her face to the viewers. The girl is unmistakably (Y/n), with bloodlust in her eye.

(Y/n) backs away. “That’s not me.” She says. “I know!” Says the Rattata. “Resolve this for us, Absolem. Is she the right (Y/n)?” Asks the white Buneary. The Caterpie looks (Y/n) in the eye. “Not hardly.” He blows smoke, obliterating himself from view.

“I told you!” Says the Rattata. “Oh dear!” Exclaims the Buneary. “I said so.” Says Dum. “No, I said so.” Argues Dee. “Contrariwise, you said she might be.” “No. You said she would be if she was.”

“Little imposter! Pretending to be (Y/n)! She should be ashamed!” The flowers shout angrily. “I was so certain of you.” Says the white Buneary. They all glare at her as if it is somehow her fault. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be the wrong (Y/n). Wait, this is my dream. I’m going to wake up now and you’ll all disappear.” (Y/n) closes her eyes and pinches herself. She opens them again. The animals are still there.

“That’s curious.” She pinches herself again. The animals just look at her. “Pinching usually does the trick.” (Y/n) says to no one in particular. The Rattata doles a long sharp hat pin from her scabbard. “I could stick you if that would help.” She asks.

“It might actually. Thank you.” (Y/n) prepares herself. “My pleasure.” She stabs her in the ankle with relish. (Y/n) yelps, but instead of a small sound, a thunderous roar is heard and the Solgaleo smashes through a high wall.

“Solgaleo!” The Tweedles shout.

It has a huge furry body with the head of a lion. Drool oozes from his muzzle. His fur is caked with blood and filth. His teeth are shark like and broken, stained with blood. A foul stench emanates from him. Everyone scatters. But they’re intercepted by Red Knights wearing the Red Queen’s crest: a heart in flames. The Knights capture the fleeing animals. A pig and a flamingo are caught and thrown into a caged wagon. The Fearow gets away. A Knight grabs the white Buneary by his leg, lifting him up.

“Unhand me! I do not enjoy being…” He’s tossed into the caged wagon with the others.

(Y/n) runs. The Solgaleo thunders after her. She stops. “Wait. It’s only a dream. Nothing can hurt me.” She whispers to herself. (Y/n) turns around to face it. The Rattata watches from behind a tree.

“What is she doing?” The Rattata asks. The Solgaleo opens its drooling muzzle to eat (Y/n). “Can’t hurt me...can’t hurt me.” She mumbles over and over.

“Run, you great lug!” The Rattata groans. She leaps onto the Solgaleo, pulls herself up, hand-over-hand to its shoulder and drives her hatpin into its eye. It bellows! She tries to pull the hatpin out, but the whole eye pops out. Solgaleo howls and whips around raking (Y/n)’s arm with its long claws. She runs.

A large hand with red birthmark reaches down and picks up the abandoned Oraculum. The grim Knave of Hearts, Giovanni, has a flaming red birthmark which covers half his face and hands. He looks through the scroll and sees something that alarms him. He tucks it into his saddle bag and rides away.

(Y/n) runs down the path, but it diverges in two directions. A road sign points south to ‘SNUD’ and east to ‘QUEAST’.

“This way! East to Queast!” Exclaims Tweedledum. “No, south to Snud!” Says Tweedledee. Dum pulls her one way and Dee pulls her the other. There’s an ear-splitting screech. The enormous Mandibuzz lands in front of them. It’s part monkey-eating eagle and part ostrich. It makes a buzzing sound as it snatches the Tweedles in its claws and takes flight.

The Mandibuzz flies over the barren red earth of Crims with the tweedles in its claws toward Salazen Grum and the castle of the Red Queen on the shore of the Crimson sea. Her flag with the heart in flames flies atop the spires.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off with your heads! Meet Guzma and the gang, and also get yourself into some trouble along the way. You also have to make a huge decision that could determine the fate of Underland.
> 
> Why is a raven like a writing desk? (Answer at the end notes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Late update sorry! I got caught up in homework, and I'm also trying to find someone to Beta my works but they haven't started yet and I was busy trying to check everything over quickly! But it's all good now and if anything is wrong just let me know because it's on me and not the Beta!

A long hall is lined with frog footmen with a fish butler. The Red Queen’s angry scream comes from behind closed doors. The doors bang open to reveal Lusamine the Red Queen. She has a huge oversized head, extremely large features, and bright platinum blonde hair with the ends dyed red.

“Someone stole three of my tarts!” She exclaims. She leans into the face of a frog. “Did you steal them?” The Red Queen asks. “No, your Majesty.” He replies. She walks the row, studying the face of each frog. At the end, she whirls to leer into the face of one terrified frog. “Did you steal my tarts?” “No, your Majesty.” He replies.

She wipes a telltale bit of jam from the side of its mouth. She hold her finger up and sniffs the juice. “Pomeg berry juice.” The Red Queen whispers. “I was so hungry!” The frog footman exclaims.

“Off with his head!” The Red Queen exclaims. Red Knights converge on the guilty frog. “No! Please! I have little ones to look after!” The Knights drag him out. The Queen turn to the Fish Butler.

“Go to his house and collect the little ones. I love tadpoles on toast points almost as much as I love caviar.” The fish butler suppresses his revulsion and anger.

“Majesty?” The Queen’s face lights up to see the Knave of Hearts and she turns flirty as she takes a seat in her throne. “Giovanni...you knave, where have you been lurking?” She asks, holding her hand out. The Knave kisses it, barely. She sighs.

“Majesty, I found the Oraculum. He lays it on a table and rolls it out. “That? It looks so ordinary for an oracle.” She says, growing bored. “Look here. On the Frabjous Day.” The Knave points to the illustration of (Y/n) in the scroll.”

“I’d know that tangled mess of hair anywhere. Is it (Y/n)?” “I believe it is.” Says the Knave. “What is she doing with my darling Jabberwocky?” The Red Queen asks. “She appears to be slaying it.”

“She killed my Jabberbabywocky!” Exclaims the Red Queen. “Not yet. But it will happen if we don’t stop her.” “Find (Y/n), Gio. Find her!”

“I will bring her head and lay it at your feet.” Says the Knave. “No. Bring the whole girl. I want to do it myself.” The Red Queen has a look of malice in her eyes. The Knave only nods.

Giovanni sits on his horse as the Knights hold a growling Lycanroc, Bayard, bound by a spiked collar and heavy ropes. “Find the scent of human girl and earn your freedom.” Says the Knave. “For my wife and pups as well?” Asks the light brown Lycanroc. “Everyone goes home.” Says the Knave. Once the Lycanroc is released, he puts his nose to the ground and leads the Knights off with a howl. Giovanni strokes his horse’s neck.

The Knave’s horse turns his head slightly. “Dogs will believe anything.” He says.

Still running, (Y/n) stops to look at the gashes on her arm. “It looks like you ran afoul of something with wicked claws.” (Y/n) sees the disembodied head of a Torracat hovering mid air. “And I’m still dreaming!” She exclaims. “What did that to you?” He asks, floating next to her.

“Salgan or Solgand…” “The Solgaleo? I’d better have a look.” The Torracat head disappears then reappears as a whole Torracat. Blue is all calm, casual sensuality with a seductive grin. He inspects the wound, then tries to lick it.

“What are you doing?” (Y/n) asks, pulling her arm away. “It needs to be purified by someone with evaporating skills or it will fester and putrefy.” Blue explains, annunciating each syllable. “I’ll be fine as soon as I wake up.” (Y/n) mutters. “At least let me bind it for you.” (Y/n) allows him to use his handkerchief to bind the wound.

“What do you call yourself?” The Torracat asks. “(Y/n).” “The (Y/n)” Blue asks with a gasp. “There’s been some debate about that.” (Y/n) rolls her eyes. “I never get involved in politics. You’d best be on your way.” Blue floats past.

“What way? All I want to do is wake up from this dream!” (Y/n) exclaims. “Fine. I’ll take you to the Hare and the Hatter. But that’s the end of it.” He disappears suddenly. She looks around. He reappears ahead.

“Coming?” There’s nothing else for her to do but follow.

The house is part hare/part house. The chimneys are ears. The roof is thatched with fur. The picket fence is rabbit feet, doorknob a bunny tail. The windows are pink rabbit eyes that look round and blink.

The tea set is an odd admixture of cracked pots and chipped cups. The tablecloth is stained and threadbare, the chairs lopsided. The Mad Hatter slumps in one of them, staring into space, pale and morose. Even his clothes reflect his gloomy mood. His always wears a ragged and scorched top hat on top of overly bleached white hair with black roots.

Paranoid and anxious, the March Hare - A Bunnelby - constantly wrings his paws and long ears. The Rattata has arrived ahead of (Y/n). She wears the Solgaleo eye at her waist. The Hare/house taps the March Hare on his head. “What? Who’s there?” He asks.

The Torracat strolls in with (Y/n). At sight of her, the Hatter bolts upright. He brightens, his clothes even perk up. Transfixed, he moves towards her, shortest route being across the top of the table. He comes close, studying her intently.

“It’s you.” The Hatter says. “No, it’s not. Gladion brought us the wrong (Y/n). “It’s absolutely (Y/n). You’re absolutely (Y/n)! I’d know you anywhere. I’d know him anywhere!” He exclaims. He takes her hand and pulls her back over the top of the table. She tries not to step on any teacups. He plunks her down in the chair next to his.

“Well as you can see we’re still having tea. It’s all because I was obliged to kill Time waiting for your return. You’re terribly late, you know...naughty. Well anyways, time became quite offended and stopped altogether. Not a tick ever since.” Hatter explains.

“Time can be funny in dreams.” (Y/n) says. “Yes yes, of course. But now you are back, you see, and we need to get onto the Frabjous day. I’m investigating things that begin with the letter M. Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?” He asks. Hare, Hatter and Rattata clasp their hands high.

“Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!” They say in almost a cough like manner. “Sorry?” (Y/n) asks. “Down with the Bloody Big Head. Bloody Big Head being the Red Queen.” Torracat explains.

“It’s a secret language used by us...the Underland Underground Resistance!” The Rattata says. “Come, come. We simply must commence with the slaying and such… Therefore, it’s high time for Time to forgive and forget. Or forget and forgive, whichever comes first. Or, is in any case, most convenient. I’m waiting.” Hatter says. The March Hare taps his watch, listens to it, dips it into his tea cup, listens again.

“It’s ticking again!” March Hare exclaims, trying not to drop the watch in his teacup again. Torracat puts his teacup down with disgust.

“All this talk of blood and slaying has put me off my tea.” He says. “The entire world is falling to ruin and poor Blue’s off his tea.” Hatter narrows his eyes at the cat. “What happened that day was not my fault!” Suddenly enraged, the Hatter slams both hands on the table. Cups and teapots go flying.

“You ran out on them to save your own skin! You guddler’s scuttish pilgar lickering…” The Hatter continues to curse in Outlandish ways. Blue puts his paws over (Y/n)’s ears. The Hatter keeps cursing faster and faster. He can’t stop himself.

“...Shukem juggling sluking ur-pals. Bar lom muck egg brimni-” Hatter is cut off by the Rattata shouting. “Hatter!” Rattata shouts. The Hatter jerks. He pulls himself back to the moment. “Fez? Thank you. I’m fine.” His voice is pained and higher pitched. Hatter returns to his seat.

“What’s wrong with you, Guzma? You used to be the life of the party. You used to do the best Futterwacken in all of Witzend.” Blue asks. “Futter…” (Y/n) trails off to let someone answer her. “It’s a dance.” The Rattata says, curtseying. “On the Frabjous day, when the White Queen once again wears the crown, again. On that day, I’ll Futterwacken… Vigorously.” Guzma says and they glare at each other like estranged brothers. The Hare/House taps March Hare on the shoulder again.

“What? The Knave! Hide her!” Hare exclaims. Torracat disappears. Guzma picks up a small bottle. “Drink this.” He says. “Oh no…” (Y/n) starts but is cut off by the Hatter forcing the liquid down her.

She shrinks to six inches high. They shove her into the teapot and cram her now overlarge clothes in behind her. Guzma closes the lid. “Mind your head.” He tells (Y/n).

It’s dim inside, except for a stream of light from the spout.

The Hatter does a headstand in his chair. The Rattata climbs into a soup tureen. The Hare lays on the table. Following his nose, Lycanroc leads Giovanni and two Red Knights in.

“Well, if it’s not my favorite trio of lunatics.” Says the Knave. “You’re all late for tea!” The March Hare throws a teapot at them. “We’re looking for the girl called (Y/n).” The Knave says. The Lycanroc sniffs around the table.

“Speaking of the Queen...here’s a song we sang at her soiree.” Guzma says and they begin singing.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat! How I wonder where you’re at!” The three sing. Giovanni grabs the Hatter around the neck. The first Knight cracks Hare with his weapon and the second pours hot tea on the Rattatas head.

“If you’re hiding her, you’ll lose your heads.” The Knave says through gritted teeth. “Already lost them.” Guzma says struggling to speak while he's being choked. They all sing together again. “Up Above the World you fly, Like a teatray in the sky.” They all laugh crazily. (Y/n) peeks out the spout. Hare, Guzma and Rattata sing on despite being hit, choked and dunked.

“Twinkle Twinkle Twinkle Twinkle!” The Lycanroc puts its paws on the table, sniffing (Y/n)’s teapot. The Hatter takes a chance. He whispers to him.

“Downal with Bloody Behg Hid.” The Lycanroc stops dead. Guzma shoots a look at the teapot. Lycanroc drops to the ground and sniffs, pretending to catch a new trail. “Follow the Lycanroc.” The Knave instructs. The Knights go off, but Giovanni lingers suspiciously.

“You’re all mad.” Knave glares. Hare, Guzma, and Rattata laugh hysterically. The Knave goes off. The Hare and Dormouse stop laughing, but the Hatter’s laughter goes on...and on.

“Hatter!” The Rattata exclaims. Guzma jerks and drags himself back from the edge of hysteria. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Guzma lifts the teapot lid, but closes it again due to the fact that (Y/n)’s clothes were way too big again and didn’t fit over her frame. “Whoops, sorry...one moment…” He takes a pair of milliner’s scissors from his pocket and quickly whips up a miniature ensemble for (Y/n) out of the tea cozy, a doily and a swatch of her old dress. He lifts the lid again and hands it to her.

“Try this on for size.” He says and closes the lid again to give her privacy. In a moment, there’s a tiny knock on the lid. He opens it and helps her out in her remade clothes. “Hum… Sorry, it’s the best I could do I’m afraid. Not half bad.” Guzma says, admiring both (Y/n) and his handiwork.

“Good thing the Lycanroc is one of us or you’d be…” Rattata draws her finger across her throat ominously. “Best take her to Marmoreal. She’ll be safe with the White Queen.” Says the Hare. “Can she help me wake up?” (Y/n) asks hopefully. “If she doesn’t put you to sleep.” Guzma jokes. He sweeps his hat off his fluffy white hair and puts it on the table. “Your carriage, m’lady.” He says chivalrously. “The hat?” (Y/n) asks.

“Anyone can go by horse or rail. But the absolute best way to travel is by Hat. Oohh… I’ve just made a rhyme.” Guzma says gleefully. (Y/n) sits on it, nervous and unsure, of the Hat and the Hatter. The Rattata sits on it too, shoving (Y/n) over.

“Sorry, Plume… Just (Y/n).” Plumeria climbs off, annoyed. The Hatter puts his hat on. “Fairfarren all!” Guzma calls to the two still at the table. They start off and Plumeria watches them go jealously. “But you haven’t had your tea!” Hare shouts. “Mind your head.” Hatter says and (Y/n) ducks as a teapot hurtles toward them.

Alice hangs on tight as the Hatter walks at a jaunty pace. “‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.” Guzma mutters darkly. (Y/n) hops down onto his shoulder.

“Sorry? What was that?” (Y/n) asks. “What was what?” Guzma pauses before speaking again. “The Jabberwock with eyes of flame. The jaws that bite. The claws that catch. Beware of the Jabberwock, my son. And the frumious Solgaleo. He took his vorpal sword in hand. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack. He left it dead, and with its head. And he went galumphing back. It’s all about you, you know…” Guzma says, staring dead ahead.

“I’m not slaying anything. I don’t slay. So put it out of your mind.” (Y/n) says. “Mmm...mind.” Guzma stops dead. He drops (Y/n) to the ground and walks on. She follows.

“Wait! You can’t leave me here!” (Y/n) shouts. Guzma turns around as (Y/n) is climbing up a small rock. “You don’t slay… Do you have any idea what the Red Queen has done? You ‘don’t slay’.” Guzma mimics her slightly.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” (Y/n) says softly. “You’re not the same as you were before. You were much more...much more muchier...you’ve lost your muchness.” Guzma accuses, any affection in his voice from before now completely gone without a trace. “My muchness?” (Y/n) asks. Guzma pokes her in the stomach with his finger.

“In there. Something’s missing.” Guzma walks away again. She frowns, then runs after him. “Tell me what Red Queen has done.” (Y/n) says. “It’s not a pretty story.” Guzma replies. “Tell me anyway.” Guzma picks (Y/n) up, plunks her back on his shoulder and pushes through the foliage which becomes blackened and twisted.

They come to a place where the ground is scorched and barren. His voice goes hoarse with emotion as he begins the tale.

“I was Hatter to the Queen at the time. The Hightopp clan have always been employed at court.” He says.

The Hatter stands with his clan: the Hightopps. Everyone, adults and children, wear top hats. The mood is festive. The White Queen sits on her white horse with other member of her court, including the white Buneary, Bunnelby, and Torracat. The White Knight holds the shining Vorpal Sword. The woods turn dark as enormous leathery wings block the sun. Faces fill with awe as they watch the fearsome creature. The Knight, stunned by its magnitude, drops the sword and flees.

Panic ensues. People run as the Jabberwocky shoots fire at them. The Queen’s horse rears. The Hatter grabs the reins and leads her to safety. He looks back. White Buneary helps other escape. The March Bunnelby looks up, shocked into paralysis. The Torracat hovers near to the Hightopp clan who stands together to protect the children.

But as the Jabberwocky descends upon them, the cat disappears. The Knave picks up the fallen Sword. He lifts it victoriously and the Jabberwocky retreats. A moment later, the Hatter returns to the scene, face filled with shock and horror at the place where his clan took their stand. The earth still smolders. Only one burned and trampled Hat remains. He tosses his own hat away, picks up the burned one, brushes the soot off and places it firmly on his head.

(Y/n) is deeply moved. She looks up at the scorched Hat he still wears, then to his tormented face. He twitches, driven to the edge of madness by guilt, helpless rage and deep loss.

“Hatter? Hatter!” (Y/n) shouts. Guzma jerks and pulls himself back from the abyss. “I’m fine. Just fine really.” He replies. “Are you?” She asks kindly. Guzma’s face softens and he lifts the girl’s tiny hands up to press a soft kiss to them. Before (Y/n) can say anything, Guzma looks around.

“Did you hear that? I’m certain I heard something.” He says quietly. “Voices?” (Y/n) asks nervously and Guzma looks back at the dark woods. “Red Knights!” Guzma says, trying to keep his voice low. They hear the bay of the Lycanroc. Guzma puts (Y/n) into his breast pocket and runs.

Guzma dodges trees and leaps over stumps. He sees the edge of the woods ahead. But there’s a flash of red through the trees. He turns. A right Knight steps out. He turns the other way, another Red Knight. They’re surrounded. Eyeing them warily, he whispers to (Y/n).

“Go south to Grampas Bluffs. The White Queen’s castle is just beyond.” He sweeps his hat off as if in a conciliatory gesture to the approaching Knights. He whispers to (Y/n). “Jump on the hat. Now.” He instructs. (Y/n) takes a leap onto the hat. Guzma flings his arms wide, sending the hat and (Y/n) sailing over the treetops.

“Down with the bloody Red Queen! Guzma shouts. (Y/n) clings to the brim of the hat as it sails out of the woods.

The hat lands in the soft grass. (Y/n) looks back at the forest, and then south toward gently rolling hills. It’s getting dark and there are strange night sounds out there. She slips under the relative safety of the hat for the night.

(Y/n) awakens to the sound of something large sniffing outside the hat. She sits up. Suddenly the hat is flipped over, exposing her. She closes eyes for the end. A big wet nose sniffs her. She opens her eyes. It’s the Lycanroc, Bayard.

“You turncoat! You were supposed to lead them away! The Hatter trusted you!” (Y/n) exclaims. “They have my wife and pups.” He pants, but that information does little to lessen her anger. “What’s your name?” She asks. “Bayard.”

“Sit!” (Y/n) commands but Bayard cocks his head and looks down at her curiously. “Sit!” She says again. He sits, amused if nothing else. Something occurs to him.

“Would you name be (Y/n) by any chance?” He asks. “Yes, but I’m not that one.” (Y/n) sighs, exasperated. “The Hatter would now have given himself up for just any (Y/n).” Bayard points out. “Where did they take him?” (Y/n) asks. “To the Red Queen’s castle at Salazen Grum.” (Y/n) looks at the worn hat, remembering the pain in Guzma’s eyes.

“We’re going to rescue him.” She says. “That is not foretold.” Bayard narrows his eyes at the small girl. “I don’t care! He wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me!” (Y/n) cries out.

“The Frabjous Day is almost upon us. You must prepare to meet the Jabberwocky.” “I have had quite enough! Since the moment I fell down that rabbit hole, I’ve been told what I must do and who I must be! I’ve been shrunk, stretched, scratched and stuffed into a teapot! I’ve been accused of being (Y/n) and of not being (Y/n)! But this is my dream! I’ll decide how it goes from here.” (Y/n) finally snaps.

“If you diverge from the path…” Bayard starts but (Y/n) cuts him off. “I make the path!” She’s so commanding, he lies down at her feet. She climbs up his rock covered neck and sits on his shoulders.

“Take me to Salazen Grum. And don’t forget the hat.” (Y/n) says. The Lycanroc picks up the hat in his teeth and runs. (Y/n) hangs onto the rock in his neck to keep her seat.

Bayard wades through viscous red mud with (Y/n) on his back. He holds his head high to keep the hat out of the mud. He races across the red desert to Salazen Grum and the dark castle that sits on the tempestuous shore. The walls are high and foreboding with a surrounding moat.

They approach the moat and they see large lumpish objects which appear to be the heads of the executed. They look around for a way across.

“There’s only one way across.” Says the Lycanroc. (Y/n) looks at the grim moat. She takes a deep breath for courage. “Lost my muchness have I?” She says.

She jumps onto one of the floating heads, then crosses the moat by jumping from head to head. Reaching the other side, she vomits onto the ground, disgusted by the Red Queen. (Y/n) looks up at the impossibly high wall, then sees a small cracked opening near the ground...just wide enough for a six inch girl to fit through. She squeezes through it. In a moment, her head reappears. She calls across to Bayard.

“Bayard! The hat!” He picks the hat up in his teeth, turns in circles like a discus thrower and releases it. The hat sails high across the moat and over the wall. Bayard bays his farewell.

(Y/n) finds herself in the bushes at the edge of a garden. She hears a loud whack, a small cry of pain, then cheers and laughter. She looks through the bushes.

The Queen and her Courtiers play croquet. The Red Queen with her huge head is surrounded by three powdered and painted Courtiers with equally out-sized body parts: a woman with an extra-large nose, another with long hanging ears, a man with a huge protruding belly. The queen swings her mallet. There’s that small cry again.

(Y/n) looks around for the source. The ball rolls toward her and lays, furry and gasping, in the grass. It’s a hedgehog tied by its four legs into an awkward ball. Its fur is matted and filthy, its face buried in the grass.

Thwack! It cries out as it’s hit again. The mallet is a miserable flamingo tied by its feet. The hedgehog rolls to a stop near (Y/n). She attempts to unti it. It cries out fearfully.

“Shh. I want to help you.” She says, pulling at the ropes. “Where’s my ball? Page!” (Y/n) hears the Red Queen shout from the other side of the hedge. (Y/n) frees the hedgehog. It stares at her mutely before stumbling into the foliage. (Y/n) sees two large white furry feet. Her gaze travels up to Gladion the White Buneary, dressed as a court page.

He looks down at tiny (Y/n). “Well! If it isn’t the wrong (Y/n). What brings you here?” He asks. “I’ve come for two reasons.” (Y/n) beckons him closer. He bends down. She punches him. “That’s for dragging me down here against my will!” She shouts. “You didn’t have to hit me! Now there’s going to be a bruise. Is there?” He asks. He shows her his chin. She looks, indulging him. “No.”

“What’s the other reason?” He asks. “I’m going to rescue the Hatter.” (Y/n) says. “You’re not rescuing anyone being the size of a Dedenne.” Gladion smirks. “Do you have any of that cake that made me grow before?” (Y/n) asks.

“Upelkuchen? Actually, I might have some left.” He says. Gladion digs in his pocket and takes out a large piece of the cake. She takes it and shoves it into her mouth. “Not all of it!” Gladion exclaims a little too late. (Y/n) shoots upward. Buttons fly off her torn garment, seams strain and give way.

“Oh no, stop! Don’t do that!” Gladion shouts. She grows right out of the shreds of her remaining clothes until she bursts through the bushes...stark raving nude.

(Y/n) looks down at the Red Queen and her courtiers. The tall bushes hide all but her head and shoulders. Everyone stares.

“And what is this?” Asks the Queen. Gladion hops out of the hedge, improvising like mad. “It’s a ‘who’, Majesty. This is...um.” Gladion stumbles over trying to think of a name. “Um?” Asks the Red Queen. “From Umbradge.” (Y/n) cuts in.

“What happened to your garments?” Asks the Queen. “I outgrew them. I tower over everyone in Umbradge. They laugh at me. So I’ve come to you, hoping you might understand what it’s like.” Says (Y/n). “My dear girl. Anyone with a head that large is welcome in my court.” Says the Queen. The courtiers with their equally out-size body parts laugh.

“Someone find her some clothes! Use the draperies if you must but clothe this enormous girl!” The Queen shouts, then turns to (Y/n). “You’ll be my new favorite.” She adds. The courtiers exchange competitive glances, especially Lady Long Ears.

Large (Y/n), clad in hastily constructed garments, proceeds with the Queen down the great hall toward the throne room. Along with the Footfrogs, Aipom hold up tables and chairs with their arms and heads. Exhausted Birds flap their wings to stay aloft with lamps hung from their beaks. The Queen plops down on her ornate throne. Chimchar serve as legs of the throne. They strain under the weight. The Queen kicks off her shoes.

“I need a pig here!” Shouts the Queen. A small Tepig hurries over and lays down belly up. She puts her feet on his bells and sighs. “I love a warm pig belly for my aching feet.” Says the Queen. She turns to (Y/n). “Sit! Sit!” She orders. (Y/n) sits, trying to keep her weight off the chair held up by Aipom. The Queen waves her hand at the three Courtiers. “Go away.” The Courtiers go out with dark jealous looks at Alice.

“Where are my twins? You must meet them! Twins!” Exclaims the Queen. The Tweedles come in. They’re bound together by a gold belt around their waists. Their faces have been painted and powdered with hearts on their cheeks and red heart lips. Their eyes are lowered, downtrodden.

“There they are! Aren’t they adorable? And they have the oddest way of speaking. Speak girls. Amuse us.” The Queen kicks Tweedledum. “Speak!” Dum lifts her eyes and sees (Y/n). She nudges Dee.

“Is that being…?” Dum asks and (Y/n) lifts a finger to her lips. “No, it isn’t. Not a bit.”. Says Dee. But Tweedledum didn’t see (Y/n)’s gesture. “Contrariwise, I believe it is so…” Says Dum.

“No! It ain’t so. Nohow!” Dee exclaims. She stomps on Dum’s foot to silence her. Dum pinches her. Dee pinches her back. The Queen laughs raucously. “I love my twins. Now get out.” She says and they leave. Giovanni enters.

The Queen blinks her eyes seductively at him. Giovanni represses a shudder.

“There you are, Gio. Any luck with the prisoner?” She asks. “He’s stubborn.” The Knave says. “You’re too soft. Bring him!” The Knights go off. Giovanni notices (Y/n).

“And who is this, lovely creature?” He asks, taking (Y/n)’s hand, looking at her intensely.

“Um, my new favorite.” Says the Queen. “Does she have a name?” Giovanni asks. “Um.” States the Queen. “Yes? Her name?” The Knave presses. “It’s Um!” The Queen shouts this time. “I believe your name has slipped the Queen’s mind.” The Queen smacks him.

“Her name is Um, you dolt!” She shouts. The Knave reacts with smoldering anger. “From Umbradge.” (Y/n) says quietly. “Giovanni, at your service.” The Knave says, kissing her hand. She pulls it away quickly.

The guards drag the Hatter in, chained by hands and feet. The Queen lifts his head up by his disheveled white hair. (Y/n)’s heart skips a beat, and she stifles a gasp. He’s been roughed up. His eyes have an empty far-away stare.

“We know (Y/n) has returned to Underland. Do you know where she is?” Asks the Queen, but Guzma doesn’t respond. She claps her hands in front of his face. Guzma jerks back to the moment, but doesn’t see (Y/n).

“I’ve been considering things that begin with the letter ‘m’: moron, mutiny, murder, malice…” He trails off. “Were looking for a (First letter of your name) word now. Where is (Y/n)?” Asks the Queen.

He thinks hard, has an inspiration, changes his mind, reconsiders, mulls, then shrugs. “Who? That wee little boy? I wouldn’t know.” He says.

“What if I take off your head, would you know then?” She laughs. Guzma laughs louder than her and keeps laughing. “Stop that.” Says the Queen, narrowing her eyes at him. He laughs louder in her face and she slaps him. He keeps laughing, madly.

The Queen makes a ‘loco’ motion to the others. But when Guzma sees (Y/n), the mad laughter stops. Surprised at her new size, he gives her a wry smile and a relieved look washes over his face for only a second. He turns to the Queen, smarmy and unctuous.

“My, what a regrettably large head you have. I should very much like to hat it.” He says, changing the topic. “Hat it?” Asks the Red Queen. “Yes, I used to hat the White Queen, you know, but there wasn’t very much for me to work with, poor dear. Her head is so small.” Says Guzma.

“It’s tiny, a pimple of a head.” Says the Red Queen, considering the offer. “But this… What I could do with this, monument, this orb. Nay, this magnificently heroic globe!” He stands up and starts to take steps closer to the Queen’s throne.

“What could you do?” Asks the Queen. He lifts his bound hands helplessly. “Unbind him, Giovanni! How can he work if his hands are bound?” The Knave unbinds his hands. Guzma circles the Queen.

“Shall it be a bonnet or a boater, or something for the boudoir?” Guzma was starting to grow manic. “A cloche, dunce hat, death cap, coif, snood, baroosh or pugree, parmulke, cockl-hat, pork-pie, tam o’shanter, billy-cock, bicorn, tricorn, bandeau, bongrace, fan-tail, nightcap, garibaldi, fez…” (Y/n) pretends to sneeze.

“Guzma!” She says, trying to cover it up with the sneeze. He jerks back to the moment. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He glances over to (Y/n) with a grateful look.

The Red Queen turns to (Y/n) and Giovanni. “Leave us.” She says. The Knave is suspicious of the Hatter. But his interest in (Y/n) draws him away. Guzma, in noticing the Knave’s lingering and hungry looks directed at (Y/n), make his chest tighten and something inside him darkens.

He’s right behind (Y/n), breathing down her neck. She tries to move past him, but he grabs her arm with the wound. She cries out as he pushes her against the wall. “I like you, Um. I like them large.” Giovanni growls. He leans in for a kiss just as Lady Long Ears passes. She smiles and walks away.

“Get away from me!” (Y/n) yells. She kicks him and runs. He glares after her.

Bayard crosses the bluffs and approaches the White Queen’s castle.

Lillie, the White Queen, waits for Bayard as he staggers inside. “What news, Bayard?” She asks. “(Y/n) has returned to Underland.” Says the Lycanroc through pants. A smile lights up the Queen’s soft lovely face.

“Where is she now?” She asks. “In Salazen Grum. Forgive me, I allowed her to divert from her destined path.” Bayard says, bowing his head. “But that is exactly where she will find the Vorpal Sword. We have our champion! Rest now. You’ve done well.” Exhausted, he falls to the ground and lays his head on the White Queen’s lap as she scratches his head.

(Y/n) searches in the bushes, passing the hedgehog who’s cleaning the caked dirt off his fur. “Ah.” The hedgehog watches (Y/n) pick up the hat. She wipes the mud off and straightens it out with loving care.

The Queen stands at the window.

“You must find (Y/n), Giovanni. Without the Jabberwocky, my daughter’s followers will surely rise against me. My ugly little daughter...why do they adore her and not me?” The Queen asks. Giovanni comes up behind, but does not touch her. “I cannot fathom it. You are far superior in all ways.” He says.

“I know. But Lillie can make anyone fall in love with her: men, women, even the furniture.” The Queen glances at the captive animals/furniture. “Even the king.” Says the Knave and her dark, bitter gaze travels down to the grim moat below. “I had to do it. He would have left me to serve in her court. He always loved her more than his own wife.”

“Majesty, isn’t it better to be feared than loved?” Asked the Knave. “I’m not certain anymore. Oh, let her have the rabble! I don’t need them. I have you.” Says the Queen. She leans her large head back, her eyes big and dewy.

“I do have you, don’t I, Giovanni?” She asks and he manages a smile, but gives her no reply.

The Hatter hums as he works with ribbons, bows, veils and feathers. (Y/n) enters a room full of huge, colorful hats. She smiles in wonderment.

“They’re wonderful! You must let me try one on.” Guzma puts a hat on her. She poses like a grand lady before putting one on him. He poses like a grand lady too and they laugh. “It’s good to be working in my trade again.” His gaze lingers on her, examining her.

“It’s just a pity you had to make them for her.” (Y/n) says sadly. Realizing what he’s done, he’s suddenly filled with remorse and self-recrimination. His clothes ‘slump’ as well.

“What’s the hatter with me? The hatter… Mmmm. Mmmmm, ma, ma.” He trails off. Fury seizes him. He takes scissors and murderously attacks a hat, cutting it to shreds, then another and another.

“Stop! Stop!” (Y/n) exclaims. She takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Guzma!” Looking into his steely gray eyes, she can see the fear in them.

“Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk? I’m frightened. I don’t like it in here, terribly crowded. Have I gone mad?” He asks. She feels his forehead, like her father did years ago.

“I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret...all the best people are.” (Y/n) says with a smile. He straightens his shoulders with pride. His clothes puff up too.

“Oh, look! Here’s another one.” She picks up his hat from behind a box. It’s his very own Hightopp Hatter’s Hat. His eyes fill with emotion to see it. She puts it on his head and leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“That’s better. You look yourself again.” (Y/n) says. He’s too overwhelmed to speak. He takes off his hat and holds it to his heart with gratitude.

“Hat man! Where are my hats? I’m not a patient monarch!” Shouts the Red Queen from somewhere in the castle. Her grating voice reminds him of his purpose.

“I’m told she keeps the Vorpal Sword hidden in the castle. Find it, (Y/n). Take it to the White Queen. Help us make the world right again.” Says Guzma. She glances at the long thick chain from his ankle to the wall and considers another use for the sword.

“We’ll go to the White Queen together.” (Y/n) says, a sad expression washes over her beautiful features. Guzma takes her hand. There’s a moment between them that might have been something more if it weren’t for her large size.

“Why is it you’re always too small or too tall?” He asks, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kisses it, letting his lips linger for a few seconds longer than necessary just to keep her close for the time being before she would have to leave.

(Y/n) approaches the Tweedles who are stationed on either side of the Queen’s courtroom door. “Tweedles!” She exclaims. “(Y/n)!” They shake her hands vigorously. “Howdeyedo again?” Asks Dum. “Where’s…?” (Y/n) is interrupted by Dee. “How is it you’re being so great big?” Dee asks.

“She ain’t great big. This is how she normal is.” Dum says. “Where’s the…?” (Y/n) is cut off again. “I’m certain she is smaller when we met.” Dum says. “She had drank pishsalver, to get through the door, recall it?” (Y/n) puts her hands over their mouths. “Where’s Gladion?” She asks.

“Over theres!” They point in opposite directions.

(Y/n) follows the Tweedles. She sees the Rattata, dressed as a chambermaid. She’s whispering with the White Buneary. “What are you doing here?” (Y/n) asks.

“I’m rescuing the Hatter.” Plumeria says, glaring. “I’m rescuing the Hatter. But you can help. He told me that the Vorpal Sword is hidden in the castle. That means someone must have seen it… a footfrog, a chamber mouse, a pigstool, someone! Ask them all! Go!” The Tweedles go off. Plumeria and Gladion remain.

“I don’t take orders from big clumsy, galumphing…” (Y/n) looms over her. She points imperiously. “Shoo!” Humiliated but outsized, Plumeria stalks off. Gladion is still there. “What is it, Gladion?” She asks.

“I know where the sword is.” He says nervously. “Why didn’t you say so?” She asks. “You’ll hit me again.” He wrings his paws together. “I won’t hit you!” (Y/n) exclaims.

They stand in front of the stables. “The Sword’s hidden inside. (Y/n) opens the door. They both react to the stench. “I know that smell.” She says. She looks inside the stable. The Solgaleo lays in his stall with his huge head on its paws. He moans. The socket with the missing eye oozes blood. (Y/n) gasps and closes the door. Gladion ducks to avoid another hit.

“I’m not going in there! Look what that thing did to my arm!” She exclaims. (Y/n) shows him the wound. It’s larger, and very swollen. He gasps. “Dear oh dear! Why haven’t you mentioned this?” He asks.

“It wasn’t this bad before.” She says. He twitches, breathing fast, flapping his paws and faints. (Y/n) looks back at the door, considering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is a raven like a writing desk?
> 
> Because they can each produce a few notes, though they are very flat; and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've made your decision and now you have to see it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter! I hope you enjoy this conclusion!
> 
> I love comments!
> 
> Thanks,  
> erialc_raeb

(Y/n) sees Plumeria studying a decorative sword on the wall. “Plumeria! Do you still have the Solgaleo eye?” She asks. “Right here.” Plumeria hikes up her maid’s skirt to reveal her breeches beneath. The Solgaleo eye is still at her waist. “I need it.” (Y/n) tries to take it. Plumeria swats her hand away.

“Get your own!” She yells. “I need that eye, Plume.” Plumeria draws her hatpin sword, brandishing it dangerously. “Come and get it.” She’s much smaller than (Y/n) with a tiny weapon. (Y/n) laughs. Plumeria realizes the absurdity.

“Right.” She tosses (Y/n) the hatpin and takes the decorative sword from the wall. She runs at (Y/n) with the huge sword.

“Ahh!” Screams Plumeria. (Y/n) sidesteps her attack, then tentatively stabs at her with the hatpin. The Tweedles arrive and coach (Y/n).

“Thrusting now!” Dum shouts. “No, stabbing!” Argues Dee. “Thrusting like this!” She pokes Dee and Dee pokes her back. They go at it as Plumeria and (Y/n) fight. (Y/n) steps...back...and back. They pass the Queen’s dressing room.

Guzma tries hats on the Queen with aloof disdain. She looks in her mirrors which are distorted to make her head appear normal-sized. She preens. Guzma looks up to see (Y/n) losing in swordplay to Plumeria. His heart warms in seeing her. In a moment, the battling Tweedles pass by as well.

Plumeria stands on a bureau with (Y/n) up against the wall. (Y/n) ducks as the sword swishes over her head. (Y/n) sees her moment and slices the thin rope at Plumeria’s waist which holds the eye. It drops into her hand. “Ha!” She exclaims with triumph. She runs with it and Plumeria doesn’t give chase.

Plumeria shakes her head at Guzma as if to say (Y/n) is a hopeless case. Guzma doesn’t think that of her though.

(Y/n) approaches the Solgaleo. He growls. “I have your eye.” She holds it up. Upon seeing his lost eye, the Solgaleo whines. (Y/n) slowly lifts the bar to open to stall door and eases inside.

She holds the eye up. He growls. She puts it on the ground near him. He sniffs it, whines, and pulls it closer with his paws. While he’s distracted, (Y/n) goes to the back of the stall. She sees a chest covered by a tarp. She removes the tarp to reveal an ornate metal chest secured with a large lock.

Disheartened and feverish, (Y/n) slumps to the ground. She pulls her sleeve back to look at the swollen, infected wound on her arm. She touches it, and stifles a cry of pain. She glances at the Solgaleo, still busy with his eye. Sweating and shivering, she pulls at the lock. But her vision goes dim. She blinks, shaking her head. And the world goes black.

Big nose woman and Big belly man walk silently to the Queen’s dressing room. They fidget as if they’re very uncomfortable.

Once inside, they smile, gasp and flatter. “You are stunning in that hat!” Exclaims the Big belly man. Guzma takes it off and dumps a large brimmed hat on her that covers half her face.

“Your Majesty has never looked better.” Says the Big nose woman. Her nose falls off and lands on the Queen’s shoulder. Guzma picks it up curiously. “It smells like you’ve dropped something.” He says. The woman feels for her nose which is still there but normal sized. She gasps, grabs the fake and turns away quickly.

Guzma’s eyes narrow suspiciously. He can see straps above the Big belly man’s pants which hold his protruding belly in place. The woman turns back with her long nose reattached crookedly. Guzma laughs out loud, not a mad laugh but with genuine amusement. They look at him. “Never mind him. He’s mad.” Says the Queen. Lady Long-Ears rushes in and whispers into the Queen’s ear.

“GIOVANNI!” She screams, shaking the whole palace.

(Y/n) wakes up. The Solgaleo looms over her. He’s managed to shove the eye back into its socket. It stares upwards uselessly. But he seems to feel better for having it back in place. She notices a large key on a chain hung around his neck. The key to the lock. She reaches for it.

The Solgaleo sniffs her arms and the wound he inflicted. She winces but will not be deterred. She pulls the key off. The Solgaleo gently licks the wound. His tongue is soothing. She sighs and allows him to lick the wound clean. She looks at it. Miraculously, the infection is gone and the swelling is down. She moves it around. No pain. The Solgaleo looks at her, one eye askew.

“I suppose you think this makes us even now.” She says. (Y/n) fits the key into the lock on the chest and opens it. She lifts the Vorpal Sword. It’s made of shining silver with an ornate handle. She holds it up to the light. There are runes engraved on the blade. She carries it out of the stall, glancing back at the Solgaleo before going out.

The Knave is on his knees before the Queen, talking fast. “Um forced herself on me. I told her my heart belongs to you. But she’s obsessed with me.” Giovanni lies swiftly. The Queen goes bright red with rage. “Off with her head!” She shouts.

Plumeria tries to pick the lock to the chain around Guzma’s ankle with her hatpin. “Stand back, Plumeria.” Plumeria and Guzma look up to see (Y/n) victoriously holding the Vorpal Sword high over her head. “How’s this for ‘muchness’?” She brings the sword toward the chain.

“Stop! It mustn’t be used for anything but…” Giovanni strides in with his Knights. He points to (Y/n). “Arrest that girl for unlawful seduction.”

“Guzma!” Plumeria tosses Guzma the decorative sword from the hall. He fights with Giovanni. Guzma is formidable even chained. Plumeria stabs the Knights with her hatpin. (Y/n) swings the sword.

“No! Take it to the White Queen!” Guzma shouts. “I’m not leaving without you!” (Y/n) exclaims, tears clouding her vision. “(Y/n)! Go!” Plumeria shouts. Giovanni stops dead. He looks at her with sudden revelation. “(Y/n)?” He asks.

“Run!” Shout both Guzma and Plumeria, and she does just that. “Seize her!” Shouts Giovanni.

(Y/n) bursts out the back. Giovanni and the Knights just behind. She runs, dodging Knights. But they manage to surround her. She swings the sword to keep them back. “(Y/n). Of course! Why didn’t I see it before? Well, it has been a long time. And you were such a little tyke them. Give me the Sword.” Giovanni says, glaring holes through her head.

“Stay back!” (Y/n) shouts. He distracts her as two Knights come up behind. “The Queen will be so pleased. She’ll take great pleasure in taking off your head. I believe she wants to do the deed herself.” As the Knights grab her there’s a deep thunderous growl.

The Solgaleo runs at them, biting and snapping. They release (Y/n) and back away. The Solgaleo lowers his head for her to climb onto his back. Giovanni and the Knights are astonished. “Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!” (Y/n) shouts as she and the Solgaleo ride off.

(Y/n) and the Solgaleo approach the open drawbridge. The Knights abandon their post. They pound across.

Bayard waits on a nearby hill. He sees the Solgaleo with (Y/n) on its back. He runs out to meet them. “Ho, (Y/n)!” He says happily. “Bayard! To Marmoreal!” (Y/n) instructs Bayard to lead the way, and then they’re off once more. Bayard leads (Y/n) and the Solgaleo toward the White Queen’s Castle. The drawbridge lowers for them.

The White Queen’s castle is light and airy in contrast to the oppression of her mother’s. She sits on her throne. The White Knight’s suit of armor stands in a prominent position. (Y/n) enters carrying the Vorpal Sword.

“Welcome to Marmoreal.” Says the White Queen. (Y/n) bows and offers her the Vorpal Sword. The Queen nods her thanks. She places the Sword in the hand of the standing suit of silver armor.

“The Vorpal Sword is home again. The armor is complete. Now all we need is a champion.” She look at (Y/n) significantly. (Y/n) drops her eyes. “You’re a little taller than I thought you’d be.” She whispers.

“Blame it on too much Upelkuchen.” (Y/n) shrugs. “Ah. Come with me.” Says the Queen, taking (Y/n)’s hand in her own and leading her to the kitchen.

As they enter, a pepper mill flies across the room and hits the wall behind them. “Is the March Bunnelby around?” (Y/n) asks. “You’re late for soup!” Hau picks up a whole pot of soup and throws it. It hits the wall. (Y/n) takes a finger to the wall for a taste.

“Could use salt.” She says and a salt shaker come flying at her. She catches it and ‘salts’ the wall. She tastes it again and kisses her fingers in a gesture of perfection.

The White Queen prepares Pishsalver in a pot on the stove, taking ingredients from a cupboard filled with an admixture of herbs, spices, flour, sugar, insects, shriveled fingers, eyeballs, and other odious things.

“Pishsalver. Let me think. Two cups grape juice, a pinch of wormfat… My nanny Wicke taught me how to concoct all the medicinal cures and transformational potions, a teaspoon vanilla...urine of the horsefly, buttered fingers… ...Because my mother preferred to study Dominion Over Living Things and I would rather...not. Tell me, how does she seem to you?” She asks.

“Perfectly horrid.” (Y/n) says. “She wasn’t always that way. Well, maybe she was. And her head?” The Queen asks, motioning to her own head. “Bulbous, bloated, like a blimp.” (Y/n) says.

“I think, she may have some kind of growth in there...something pressing on her brain. ...three coins from a dead man’s pocket, two tablespoons of Wishful Thinking…” The Queen continues to add things to the mixture.

“You can’t imagine the things that go on in that place.” (Y/n) says. The Queen places her hands on the table. “Oh yes, I can. But when a champion steps forth to slay the Jabberwocky, the people will rise against her.” Says the Queen before spitting into the pot. “That should do it.” She dips a tiny spoon into the pot and offers it to (Y/n). “Blow.” (Y/n) blows, takes a sip and shrinks to her normal size.

“Feel better?” Asks the Queen. “Much. Thank you.” (Y/n) thanks here. “There’s someone here who would like to speak with you.” She says.

Back at the Red Queen’s palace, the Knave of Hearts is telling the Red Queen what had just happened. “Majesty, (Y/n) has escaped.” He says. The Queen is so angry she slaps him. “On the Solgaleo.” She slaps him again. “With, the Vorpal Sword.” He adds more. The Queen slaps him yet again. He grits his teeth.

“How could you let this happen?” She asks. “I may have underestimated her. But we have her conspirators. The Hatter and a Rattata.” “Off with their heads!” The Queen shouts.

A female Lycanroc, Bielle, paces her cell as her Rockruff pups shiver in the corner. Guzma’s slumped on the floor, staring off into space, Plumeria is in a large bird cage hung from the ceiling. Giovanni arrives with his Red Knights.

“Hatter!” He shouts but gets no response. A Knight prods him with his truncheon. “He’s ‘round the bend.” He says. “Pity. It’s a bore to behead a madman. No weeping, no begging…” Says Giovanni.

“Why are you keeping us here? We’ve done nothing wrong!” Shouts Bielle. “Blame your husband. He left you here to rot.” Says Giovanni. “You lie!” Bielle leaps at the bars snarling. He jumps back. Guzma instantly has his arm around the Knave’s neck, squeezing. His men try to break Guzma’s grip.

But the madness is in his eyes and he feels no pain. Finally, the Knights free Giovanni. He staggers back, gasping.

“Your head comes off at dawn! And that one too!” He points to Plumeria. Guzma turns conciliatory. “Oh, come come. It’s such a small insignificant little head. Hardly seems worth the effort. Why don’t you let her go? I’ll give you an entertaining execution. I’ll beg. I’ll grovel. Weep, etcetera.” Guzma bargains but Plumeria’s not about to be saved.

“Down with Bloody Big Head!” She shouts, throwing her hatpin sword at the Knave. It sticks into his shoulder. He gasps and pulls it out, then forces a smile.

“Have a pleasant night.” He says and leaves.

(Y/n) sees a tell-tale plume of smoke coming from a topiary mushroom. “Absolem?” (Y/n) asks. “Who are you?” Asks the blue Caterpie. “I thought we’d settled this. I’m (Y/n)...but not that one.” She says slowly. “How do you know?” He asks, blowing smoke in her face. She coughs and waves it away.

“You said so yourself.” (Y/n) says sitting down. “I said you were Not Hardly (Y/n). But you’re much more her now. In face, you’re Almost (Y/n).” He says. “Even so, I couldn’t slay the Jabberwocky if my life depended on it.” (Y/n) says.

“It will. So I suggest you keep the Vorpal Sword on hand when the Frabjous Day arrives.” (Y/n) abruptly pokes him with her finger. “No touching! There’s no touching!” He exclaims.

“You seem so real. Sometimes, I forget that this is all a dream.” She says with a slight chuckle. He blows smoke at her again. “Stop doing that!” (Y/n) squeaks. He chuckles and his whole body jiggles like blue jelly. He keeps chuckling as he obliterates himself from view.

Guzma cleans his hat and tries to get his ‘sad’ clothes to perk up. The Torracat appears outside the bars. “I’ve always admired that hat.” He says, floating about. “Hello Blue.” Guzma says. “Since you won’t be needing it any more, would you consider bequeathing it to me?” He asks. “It’s a formal execution. I want to look my best.” Guzma says, holding the hat close.

“It’s a pity about all this. I was looking forward to seeing you Futterwacken.” Says Blue. “I was rather good at it.” Guzma says solemnly. Blue re-materializes in the call with Guzma. “I really do love that hat. I would wear it to all the finest occasions.” He says with a hint of mischief in his voice.

The Hatter and the Rattata walk toward the executioner with their heads down. The Tweedles and the White Buneary blend in with the crowd. The Red Queen and Giovanni watch from a balcony

Guzma and Plumeria stand on the platform. Guzma steps forward, pushing Plumeria behind him. The Executioner attempts to take off his hat. He mumbles, “I want to keep it on.” The Executioner pulls back. “Suit yourself. As long as I can get at your neck.” He says.

Guzma places his neck on the beheading stone. “I’ll be right behind you.” Plumeria has tears in her eyes, but other than that she doesn’t let her guard down. Gladion covers his eyes. “I can’t watch.”

The Executioner raises his sword. All is quiet. The sword comes down. But the accursed’s body disappears. The Red Queen and Giovanni gasp. The sword hits the stone, jarring the executioner. The Tweedles stare in disbelief.

“It’s gone.” Says Dee. Gladion still hasn’t looked. “He was such a fine fellow.” He says glumly. “Look!” Gladion looks up to see the floating head with no body attached.

“I can’t behead nobody if ain’t no body!” Exclaims the Executioner. “Good morning everyone!” Blue‘s disembodied head wearing the hat floats upright and hovers in the air. He grins. “Blue, you dog!” Plumeria says, happy that her friend was alive. They hear the Hatter’s tell-tale laugh. He’s standing on a balustrade.

“Majesty, your courtiers are playing you for a fool!” Guzma says, surprising the Red Queen. He tugs on Lady Long Ear’s ear. It comes off in his hand. Long Ears screams. Guzma holds the long dangling ear up.

“What is that?” Asks the Queen in disbelief. “I’m not the only one, Majesty. Look!” Lady Long Ears grabs Big Nose Woman’s nose and pulls. It comes off revealing her real nose beneath.

“A counterfeit nose! You should be ashamed!” Exclaims the Big Belly Man. “Me? What about that big belly you’re so proud of?” The former Big nosed woman pulls up his shirt to reveal his fake belly. “Liars! Cheats! Falsifiers! OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!” The Red Queen exclaimed, red in the face.

“To the abused and enslaved of the Red Queen’s court, stand up and fight! Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!” Guzma exclaims. A Croagunk holding a tray of tarts tosses them into the air. Other animals throw off their bonds and take up the slogan. “Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!” Various animals shout.

“Release the Mandibuzz!” Shouts the Red Queen. There’s a blood curdling screech as the Mandibuzz swoops down. He strafes the panicked onlookers indiscriminately. The Queen watches with a vengeful smile.

“You’re right, Gio. It is far better to be feared than loved. Prepare the Jabberwocky for battle. We’re going to visit my daughter.”

The Hatter, the Rattata, the White Bunnelby, and the Tweedles gather to escape.

The White Queen, (Y/n) and Bayard stand on the castle walls. “I had hoped to have a champion by now.” Says the White Queen. “Why don’t you slay the Jabberwocky yourself? You must have the power?” (Y/n) says, leaning against the railing.

“In the healing arts, it is against my vows to bring harm to any living thing.” She glances down to see an ugly bug near her shoe. She shudders and secretly squashes it. Then, she lifts the spyglass and sees something in the distance.

“We have company.” She give the spyglass to (Y/n).

The Hatter, the Rattata, The White Buneary, and Tweedles appear over the rise. (Y/n) hands the spyglass to Bayard. “Have a look Bayard.” He looks through. His wife and pups run with the others. He’s overwhelmed. “Bielle.” He says.

The group enters the castle. Bayard, Bielle and their pups leap, whine and nuzzle each other joyfully. (Y/n) runs to greet Guzma, his clothes are ‘bright’ and happy.

He crushes (Y/n) in a hug, swaying her back and forth as they talk. “I’m so happy to see you! I thought they were going to...” Guzma cuts her off, manic and enthusiastic. “So did I. But they didn’t. Here I am...still in one piece...and I’m rather glad about that now that I’m seeing you again...I would have regretted not seeing you again...especially now that you’re the proper size...it’s a good size...just right, in fact...a right proper (Y/n) size…” Guzma rambles.

“Guzma.” (Y/n) laughs. He jerks and comes back to himself. “I’m fine. Now.” He presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“Where’s your hat?” (Y/n) asks. The hat materializes in the air worn by the Torracat. “Blue?” (Y/n) asks. “How’s the arm, luv?” Blue asks. “All healed.” She shows the Torracat the scars left behind.

Guzma holds his hand out for the hat. Blue returns it reluctantly. “Goodbye, sweet, hat.” He says, disappearing.

Guzma sits with (Y/n) on top of a high tower. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” Guzma asks. “A riddle! This will be fun. Let me think about it.” (Y/n) says excitedly. “You do know what tomorrow is.” Guzma says, placing his hand near (Y/n)’s.

“The Frabjous day. How could I forget? Oh, I wish I’d wake up!” (Y/n) says and takes Guzma’s hand, squeezing it in her own. “You still think this is a dream?” He asks. “Well, it can’t possibly be real. This has all come from my own mind.” (Y/n) says, not saying anything about the way Guzma’s hand tightens on hers.

“Which would mean that I’m not real.” Guzma says sadly. “No, I’m sorry to say. You’re just a figment of my imagination. I would dream up someone who’s half-mad.” (Y/n) chuckles. “But you’d have to be half-mad to dream me up.” Guzma tries to add in. “I must be then.” She says.

They lean against each other, secure in the comfort of their own mutual madness. “I give up. Why is a raven like a writing desk?” (Y/n) breaks the silence. Guzma only sighs. “I haven’t the slightest idea.” (Y/n) giggles slightly. “I’ll miss you when I wake up.” She says. “Me too.” She hears him say before he lifts their hands and kisses her knuckles.

The white Buneary blows his trumpet. “Who will step forth to be champion for the White Queen?” He asks. Guzma steps forward valiantly. “That would be I!” He proclaims. Blue appears out of nowhere next to Guzma. “You have very poor evaporating skills. I should be the one.” He says, tracing a paw over Guzma’s hat.

“No, me!” Dee pushes Dum behind her. “No, me!” Says Dee. Gladion holds up the Oraculum and the illustration of (Y/n) slaying the Jabberwocky. Everyone falls quiet. “No other slayer, nohow.” Dum says sadly. “If it ain’t (Y/n), he ain’t dead.” Dee adds. All eyes turn to (Y/n). The feeling is not unlike the pressure of that moment under the gazebo.

“(Y/n), you cannot live your life to please others. The choice must be yours because when you step out to face that creature, you will step out alone.” Says the Queen. Overwhelmed, (Y/n) runs.

(Y/n) falls onto a garden bench and weeps. “Nothing was ever accomplished with tears.” (Y/n) sniffs and looks up. “Absolem?” She asks. “On the leaf.” She turns her head to the plant next to her. He’s hanging upside down on a leaf, spinning a chrysalis.

“Why are you upside down?” She sniffles. “I’ve come to the end of this life.” He says monotonously. “You’re going to die?” (Y/n) wipes at her eyes. “Transform.” He corrects. The chrysalis begins to cover his body.

“Don’t go. I need your help. I don't know what to do!” (Y/n) pleads. “I can’t help you if you don’t even know who you are, stupid girl.” Absolem says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not stupid! My name is (Y/n). I live in London. I have a mother named Veronica and a brother named Elios. My father was Steven Kingsley. He had a vision that stretched halfway around the world and nothing ever stopped him. He would have like it here. I’m his daughter. I’m (Y/n) Kingsley.” She finishes her speech and wipes underneath her eyes again.

“(Y/n) At Last!” Absolem sighs with relief. “You were just as dimwitted the first time you were here. You called it Wonderland as I recall…” The name stirs a distant memory.  
“Wonderland.”

Her dream comes flooding back. She’s Young (Y/n) in Wonderland; Young (Y/n) in the Room of Doors; Young (Y/n) with the Torracat; Young (Y/n) at the Mad Tea Party; Young (Y/n) with the Red Queen and Playing Cards painting the roses red; Young (Y/n) with the Caterpie.

“It wasn’t a dream at all. It was a memory! This place is real! And so are you. And so is the Hatter.” Her heart leaps at that last thought. “And the Jabberwocky. Remember, the Vorpal Sword knows what it wants. All you have to do is hold on to it. Fairfarren, (Y/n). Perhaps, I will see you in another life.” He disappears inside the green chrysalis.

The Red Queen rides a black steed, Giovanni at her side. Behind them, the Red Queen’s Army marches steadily across the red desert. The Mandibuzz flies ahead. A monstrous winged shadow soars above.

Everyone has gathered just outside the castle walls. They wait nervously for (Y/n) to make her decision. The Solgaleo lopes out, a White Knight astride him, her (h/c) hair hangs down the back of the shining armour. She holds the Vorpal sword high. A rousing cheer rises up. But the cheer fades as they feel a shadow pass overhead.

“It’s coming! Look up!” Screams the March Bunnelby, but (Y/n) is undaunted. “To the Tulgey Wood!” She shouts.

The White Queen and her allies meet the Red Queen and her army at the same clearing in the wood. “Hello, Lusamine.” The White Queen says, stepping closer to the other Queen. “Lillie.” The Red Queen sneers. The White Buneary blows his trumpet.

“On this the Frabjous Day, the Queens, Red and White shall send forth their champions to do battle on their behalf.

“Oh, mother.” It had been a long time since Lillie had called her that, and the Red Queen’s eyes soften. “We don’t have to fight.” She whispers. The Red Queen’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “I know what you’re doing. You think you can blink those pretty little eyes and I’ll melt just like your father did.”

“Just give me my crown.” Says the White Queen. “It’s my crown! I am your mother! Jabberwocky!” Shouts the Red Queen. Behind her, a dark form rises. The March Bunnelby twitches uncontrollably. “Look up! It’s here! Look up!” He shouts.

Jabberwocky’s vast wingspan darkens the clearing. It swings its reptilian head, whips its pronged tail, extends one deadly claw and adjusts its vest. (Y/n) can barely contain her fear.

“But this is impossible.” (Y/n) whispers as Guzma walks up beside her. “Only if you believe it is.” His words spark a memory of her father. “Sometimes I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” She quotes. “An excellent practice, but just at the moment, you should focus on the Jabberwocky.” He says. The right answer. She smiles as he kisses her non-sword wielding hand for luck.

“Where’s your champion, daughter?” Asks the Red Queen, pouting slightly. (Y/n) steps boldly into the clearing. “Here.” The Red Queen glares at her. “Hello, Um.” The Queen rolls her eyes.

(Y/n) looks up at the huge terrifying creature. The Jabberwocky roars. (Y/n) whispers to herself, her voice trembling. “Six impossible things. Count them, (Y/n). One! There’s a potion that can make you shrink. Two! And a cake that can make you grow.” She draws the Vorpal Sword. The Jabberwocky lowers its huge head and hisses.

“So my old fore, we meet on the battlefield once again!” (Y/n) is shocked. She hadn’t thought that it could talk. “We have never met.” She says. “Not you, insignificant bearer. My ancient enemy, the Vorpal one.” He strikes out suddenly with his spiked tongue. (Y/n) lifts the Sword to defend herself and the Sword slices off the Jabberwocky’s tongue. It falls to the ground, wriggling in the dirt. The Jabberwocky can only make a burbling sound. (Y/n) looks over at the White Queen who gags into her hand.

“That’s enough chatter.” (Y/n) says when she turns back. The Jabberwocky whips its pronged tail and knocks her to the ground. She lays for a moment, catching her breath and continuing her six impossible things.

“Three. Animals can talk” The Jabberwocky drives its spike tail down to stab her. She barely rolls out of its way in time. She falters in her next impossible thing. “Four. Four, (Y/n)!” She pulls herself to her feet. “Cats can disappear.”

“Watch your head!” Guzma shouts. She ducks in time to avoid the creature’s snapping jaws. “Five. There is a place called Wonderland.” It swipes at her with long curved claws. She deflects them.

“Six.” She stands still for a moment, then slowly lifts her head. All fear is gone. There is nothing but fierce intention and bloodlust in her eye. “And I can slay the Jabberwocky!” She swings the Sword and attacks with fury. The Jabberwocky is surprised by her fierceness. They do battle.

“Behind you!” Guzma is shouting to her from behind. She turns, distracted. Claws scrape down the back of her armor. (Y/n) backs up toward Guzma, fending off the Jabberwocky.

“I can manage. Thank you.” She tells him. The Red Queen sees them talking. “The Hatter’s interfering! Off with his head!” She screams.

Giovanni runs toward him, sword drawn. Guzma fights back and the well-ordered duel erupts into a full-scale battle with (Y/n) and the Jabberwocky in the eye of the storm.

During the battle...Bayard and Plumeria take on the Mandibuzz… ...Blue disappears and reappears to confuse the Right Knights… ...The Solgaleo does battle with four Red Knights… ...The Tweedles fight back-to-back with perfect precision and timing and not a single argument… ...March Bunnelby stares upward, paralyzed with fear until he gets slammed by a Red Knight. Then he goes crazy, throwing things like a wild man.

(Y/n) leaps onto the Jabberwocky, pulling herself up his scales. He twists and snaps trying to shake her off. The Vorpal Sword practically pulls itself out of her hand in its relentless pursuit of the creature’s head. (Y/n) makes her way to the Jabberwocky’s vest where she clings trying to slash its neck with the sword. The vest buttons strain with (Y/n)’s weight.

They snap...one...two...three...only one left holding the vest on by a thread. (Y/n) can barely hold onto the slashing Sword. Just as the last button gives way, she propels herself into the air.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” With one powerful thrust, she cuts off the Jabberwocky’s head. Both (Y/n) and the head fall at once, the Jabberwocky’s jaws still snapping at her in its death throes.

(Y/n) hits the ground hard. The Jabberwocky’s head rolls a few feet away. She lays on the ground, breathing heavily. Everyone is silent until finally, she picks up the Jabberwocky’s head, carries it to the Red Queen and drops it at her feet. The Queen points to (Y/n) imperiously.

“KILL HER!” She shouts.

The nearest Red Knight throws down his weapon. “We follow you no more...bloody big head.” “How dare you! Off with his head!” The insulted Queen shouts. The other Red Knights toss their weapons down. The crown lifts off the Red Queen’s head. She snatches for it as it floats over to the White Queen where it gently lowers to her head. Blue materializes next to her.

“Lusamine of Crims, your crimes against Underland are worth of death. But, that is against my vows. Therefore, you are banished to the Outlands. No one is to show you any kindness or ever speak a word to you. You will not have a friend in the world.” Giovanni bows unctuously to the White Queen.

“Majesty, I hope you bear me no ill will.” He says hopefully.

“Except this one. Giovanni you will join Lusamine in banishment from this day until the end of Underland.” The White Knights grab Giovanni and chain him to Lusamine. “At least we have each other.” Lusamine bats her eyes at him. Giovanni, in a last panic, pulls a knife and tries to stab her. She screams. Guzma knocks the knife away. Giovanni drops to his knees before the White Queen.

“Kill me...please.” He begs. “But I do not own you a kindness.” She says, twiddling her fingers in the air. Red and White Knights drag them away.

“You tried to kill me! YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!” Lusamine shouts as they are escorted off the field.

Guzma bursts into an enthusiastic dance. “Oh Frabjous Day! Callou! Callay!” He shouts, then explodes into a dance. “What is he doing?” (Y/n) asks Blue. “Futterwacken.” He says simply as Guzma makes his way on over and pulls (Y/n) into the dance.

It’s a wild, wacky joyous dance and when it’s done...he kisses her, at last. Blue puts a comforting arm around a disappointed Plumeria. When the two pull away, (Y/n) can’t stop smiling, so Guzma can’t help but kiss her again.

The White Queen leans down to the still bleeding Jabberwocky’s neck to catch a drop of its blood into a vial. “And the blood of the Jabberwocky. You have our everlasting gratitude. And for your effort on our behalf…” The Queen hands the vial to her.

“Will this take me home?” (Y/n) asks. “If that is what you choose.” (Y/n) lifts the vial, but Guzma puts his hand on hers to stop her.

“You could stay.” He whispers and doesn’t meet her eyes. “What an idea… a crazy, mad wonderful idea.” She looks at the strange and wonderful beings she’s met in this strange and wonderful place. But then, thoughts of her mother and brother and unfinished business intrude.

“But I cannot. There are questions I have to answer. And things I still must do.” (Y/n) drinks the potion. “I’ll be back again before you know it.” She takes Guzma’s hands again. “You won’t remember me.” Guzma has tears brimming his eyes.

“Of course I will! How could I forget? How could I…forget the only man I’ve ever truly fallen for?” She has tears in her eyes now too. (Y/n) leans forward to kiss him again and he holds her tightly against his body until he starts to shimmer. “Fairfarren, (Y/n). I love you.” He whispers into her ear.

Underland shimmers and then dissolves into…

Grass. (Y/n) finds herself face down in the field, clinging to the edge of the Rabbit hole, legs dangling precariously. (Y/n) pulls herself up and looks around, blinking in the bright sun. She shakes her head and looks down at her clothes. Ragged, torn, filthy. She looks down at the rabbit hole. “I love you too Guzma.” She whispers.

The party's still going on although a bit subdued. Hamish speaks to the confused guests. “She left me standing there without an answer.” He says. “A case of nerves, no doubt.” Says Gil. People fall silent as (Y/n) wanders back onto the lawn, looking like she’s been through a war.

“(Y/n)?” Hamish asks. “Good Lord. Are you alright?” Asks Lord Ascot. Her mother goes to her. “What happened to you?” Veronica asks. “I fell down a hole and hit my head.” (Y/n) only half lies. “You look a frightful mess.” Says Lady Ascot.

(Y/n) turns to Hamish. Her adventure has given her unwavering confidence and self-awareness. “I’m sorry Hamish, I can’t marry you. You’re not the right man for me. I like them a bit more...mad. And there’s that trouble with your digestion.” (Y/n) walks over to her brother next. “I love you, Elios. But this is my life. I’ll decide what to do with it.” She glares at Lowell. “You’re lucky to have my brother for your husband, Lowell. I know you’ll be good to him. I’ll be watching, very closely.” He blanches at the veiled threat. She turns to Imogene.

“There is no prince, Aunt Imogene. You need to talk to someone about these delusions.” She addresses Lady Ascot. “I happen to love rabbits, especially white ones.” She turns to her mother and kisses her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll find something useful to do with my life.” “You two remind me of some funny girls I met in a dream.” (Y/n) says to the Chattaway boys. She looks around. “Anyone else?” Lord Ascot lifts a finger.

“You’ve left me out.” He says. “No I haven’t, sir. You and I have business to discuss.” (Y/n) smiles. “The impertinence!” Lady Ascot cries. “I’d like to hear what she has to say. Shall we speak in the study?” He starts to lead her off, but she turns back.

“Oh and one more thing.” She lifts her skirt, revealing her bare legs and does a brisk Futterwacken to the shock of some and delight of others.

In the study, (Y/n) studies a map of the world on the table. “My father told me he planned to expand his trade route to Sumatra and Borneo. But I don’t think he was looking far enough.” She says. “Not far enough?” Asks Lord Ascot. “Why not go all the way to China? It’s vast, the culture is rich and we have a foothold in Hong Kong. To be the first to trade with China. Can you imagine it?” She look at him, her eyes shine just like her father’s did.

“If you were anyone else, I would say you’ve lost your senses. But I’ve seen that look before. Since you’re not going to be my daughter-in-law, perhaps you would consider an apprenticeship with the company?” Lord Ascot asks and her face lights up in surprise and delight.

Six months later, a crowd has gathered to see the China Trading Company’s ship off. (Y/n) stands on the deck, waving to her mother, sister and Lord Ascot. As the ship pulls away, a beautiful Butterfree with blue tinged wings lands on her shoulder. She smiles.

“Hello, Absolem.” The Butterfree takes wing, as (Y/n) watches it soar skyward…

**~~~FIN~~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! This has been so fun to write! I'd love to know if you have any head cannons for me!


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